


Fireworks

by Aithilin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fireworks, Fluff, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Summer Festivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 16:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14835428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: Some summer festivals just needed to be spent on a beach.





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JazzRaft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/gifts).



> Prompted by Jazzraft over on my Tumblr (like, ages ago.)

Festivals in Insomnia were not limited to the solemn affairs televised from the Citadel. They weren’t the stuffy, uniformed events in the Council rooms, where those of importance made addresses and speeched; nor were they limited to the formal processions from Citadel to relevant monument, or relevant venue— where the uniforms and speeched would be held with a slight change of scenery. Like the spring flower festivals, and the winter events that coated the entire span of the city— with each district and borough and street having their own spin on it— the summer festivals tended to be far more relaxed. 

There were still the formal events and appearances expected at least once. Noctis was still expected to stand by his father’s side, in his father’s shadow, while speeches and awards were presented. While good wishes and better promises were made for a future that no one who had seen the world beyond the Wall was certain about. There were still those formal events when, standing in Noctis’ shadow— acting as his shadow— in full formal uniform, Gladiolus would watch his prince shoulder the weight of an expectant kingdom. 

Events where Gladio, stone-faced and as intimidating in reputation as his own father, would let his hand ghost Noctis’ back in support after a speech. Just to watch the tension in the prince leech out from that one gesture. 

“So, that looks dangerous.”

Summer festivals were for the crowded beaches and open parks. They were for the daring races across floating platforms on the bay, and tours in off season boats out to the ancient battlements that enclosed the city for if the Wall failed. Banners crossed the parks by way of the trees— strung in colourful webs from signs and posts and branches alike. Along the beaches, the lanterns were laced with the same colourful strings— carried from post to post to light up the sand and shore as the day waned. 

Summer festivals, Gladio knew, were for the feats with strangers around bonfires and firepits, with the water teasing at their feet as they enjoyed the day. Boardwalks were crowded affairs, with the games and food stalls and vendors with their crafts and gifts all trying to shout over the music. The parks would be alleyways of the same, with children and adults alike settled around fountains and sprawled out on cool grass for picnics, all waiting for the same crowning glory on the day. 

Noctis preferred the beach. 

Gladio tended to agree. 

Ignis would shoo them off when he had enough of crowds, when he wanted to settle somewhere where they had staked a claim on the sand with their blankets and towels, guarding their spot for the evening. Ignis preferred the manicured parks and the shining city sprawl of festive lights and colours. He preferred to wave off Gladio and Noctis as the afternoon dragged on; knowing neither of them could sit still long enough to guard their claim. 

Prompto took his guard shifts with the same sort of ease he took everything. His camera was out even as Noctis tried to get him into the water. Even as Ignis presented food and Gladio proposed races along the sand. He would skirt the waters, laughing and teasing with the rest of them, just as jostled by the crowd as he dragged Noctis off to find the perfect photo for the day. In the evening, he would be better prepared. His equipment cleaned and spread across their towels as he prepared for the big event, grin taking the edge off his complaints about the sand and salt water. 

But Gladio and Noctis couldn’t sit still. 

As the day dragged on and the events started to taper down— the games for younger children moved further inland. What was left out on the water was the long platforms meant for the chocobo races. The long strips of buoyant wood and plastic that tended to drift on whatever anchor it had sunk into the bay itself. There were the easy tracks meant for beginners, the more difficult ones that threatened collision with swimmers if the timing was off. 

But as the sun dipped and the first of the stars could just barely be seen beyond the city lights and the shimmering Wall, the waters emptied of all but the bravest. 

“Want to try it?”

There was a tall platform that now stood empty. It had drifted off course to where the water was unpredictable. The lifeguards focused on the more crowded sections of the water, the shallows where the children splashed while the adults found dinner. 

The platform, towering over the dark water, wasn’t closed yet. But no citizen out on the beaches wanted to risk drowning by diving from the drifting platforms. Even the most foolhardy of the young men— the boldest, and dumbest— had tired themselves out with their feats of bravery during the day. When the waters were clearer. 

Gladio had never understood where the idea that Noctis was some meek, scared creature came from. Not when the prince was offering a grin in the night and already diving into the water to make his way to the empty tower. Gladio followed half a second later. 

The winds had picked up, had promised a chillier night out in the open that might drive some of the crowd back to the warmth of the sheltered city— to the parks if not their homes, content to watch the day’s end on the news. Across the water, Gladio wrapped his arms around Noctis to stop his shivering, laughing as the prince huffed under the attention as they assessed the climb to the top of the platform. Out here, no one was paying attention to them— it was dark and quiet, and the lights were the better distraction. 

“Well?”

“You first, highness.”

From the top of the platform, the tower, the dive was more intimidating. The dark waters lapped against the platform edges, and threatened to swallow up the swimmers venturing too far. Noctis could see the soft glow of luminescent fish beneath the surface, the eerie calm and mesmerising pattern of their lazy hunts for food far more vivid than the muted noise of the beach carrying over on the breeze. Noctis paused to admire the sight, to let himself get caught in the net of summer calm out where no one by Gladio could see him. 

“We doing this?”

“You’ll scare the fish.”

“You’re not fishing from here, Noct, we’re jumping.”

Noctis’ curiosity was infectious, and Gladio peered over the edge to see the strange shapes of the fish he had seen thousands of times in the Royal Aquariums. He kissed Noctis, and turned him towards the water. “You don’t have to, highness.”

“You’ll never let me hear the end of it if I back out now.”

“Nope. You’ll be stuck living it down for years to come.”

Another kiss as the first of the fireworks shattered the night sky. Gold sparks carried on the breeze to leave streaks of smoke against the shimmering Wall. Then red, then blue, all in a cacophony of noise that hushed the crowds. Noctis dove from the platform to the scattering fish and to the mirror of the fireworks. 

Gladio right behind. 

Prompto greeted them first with his camera on the beach, Ignis offered a smile and towel as they all settled together to watch the show. 

Later, back in the apartment, the more local displays would still be ringing across the city long into the night— the Citadel quiet while the smaller communities sent up their own celebrations in the distance. Floral bursts of colour would send resounding rumbles across the city for hours still, and Gladio would count them until Noctis distracted him again. Until they had tastes the salt of the water from each other and found their familiar, comforting, muffled rhythm together in the warm dark of Noctis’ room. Until they lay spent and exhausted, knowing that the faint glow beneath the bedroom door was Prompto’s own inability to sleep with the excitement of the day still racing through him. 

Gladio would tap out the beats of the fireworks against Noctis’ skin— arm, belly, chest— and grin as Noctis, warm and pliant and satisfied would threaten to kick him out of bed.


End file.
